More Than You Think You Are
by Rhelle
Summary: Sick of witnessing his brother's abuse at the hands of their stepfather, Mokuba comes to a dark decision - Gozaburo must die...


Mokuba is not the kawaii, sweet little guy we've always thought him to be. Personally, I think he's got a bit of a devious side

Seto: That was an understatement

^_^; That's why I vuvvles him! He's tied with Seto as my favorite character from the anime, so of course I had to do a story with him.

Seto and Mokuba: -_-;

________________________________________________________________________

__

More Than You Think You Are

He's crying again, my big brother Seto. Only he can't anymore, he's got no tears left. He's used them all up, but the pain is still there, undiminished. It's like the dry heaves; he's going through all the motions, sobs convulsing his body and catching in his throat, but still there's nothing.

He clings to me desperately, almost fearfully, as if I'm his last hope in the world (which I am, I guess) and he fears he'll lose me any second. I hug him back and do my best to soothe him, whispering words that mean less than nothing to a lost, hurting child. I'm far younger than him, but comforter and solace is my role, my burden and my honor.

Darkly, I wonder what he did to set you off this time and how badly you made him hurt for it. 

Eventually, his sobs turn into hiccups, and his hiccups into the deep soft breathing of sleep. I lay him down in bed and pull the covers up. I hope his dreams will be kinder than his day has been.

I sit next to him, watching him sleep and thinking.

My soul feels hollow, and there is a kind of darkness in my heart. Emotions swirl and shift like the depths of a dark ocean, and strange things wake within me.

I'm tired of all the nights Seto comes to me, hurting, after you finish with him. I want him to be happy, to be safe in his own home.

Children, too, can know hatred - the hatred of the powerless for the powerful - and a hunger for revenge. I know, for I did then in the darkness of the night and my own heart.

The determination comes in a slow rush, crystallizing into a hard decision: he's suffered for my sake, he's sacrificed so much. It's time I paid him back.

I creep through the darkened house, passing through shadows without a sound. I can't turn on the lights because you'll wake up if I do. I'm less afraid of the darkness than I am of you.

I step into the kitchen. There is light here, starlight and moonlight falling through the window to pool silver on the floor. It darkens with shadow as I move through it. I open a drawer, and take it out. The knife. Its blade flashes and glows in the moonlight like a demon's eyes or an angel's wings. It's sharp and fine, and it'll be used for something more than cutting vegetables tonight.

The handle fits well in my hand. It had a comforting (if unfamiliar) feel. Weapons are power, and power is safety. And safety to an unaccustomed luxury to one like me.

I turn and make my way back through the house to your room, a small and silent wraith, part of the darkness and the night.

I creep to your bedside and look down at you, a great, formless lump snoring soundly. Your face is slack and soft, as it never is in waking. You look like everyone else when you're asleep: helpless, normal, almost innocent. But the things of night are but illusions, and this is no different.

Father. You've always insisted on that formality. But you are not my father and you never were. You can't even pretend to be. But I'll have justice. I smile grimly. The tables are turned now; the boy holds power over the man, the underling has the knife.

I feel only a kind of sadness, something lost that might have been. You are not the man I thought - hoped - you were or could be.

I lift the knife, then pause, considering my options with a cold emotionlessness. I could drive the blade through your heart and kill you like a vampire, or slit your throat quick, or...

Realization dawns on me and the implications of my actions hit me like a tidal wave. Doubts creep in, and fear too, and my determination begins to wither and die. Oh God, I can't do this, I can't kill my own father! No matter how much abuse we may suffer, that is the truth of the matter. I can't do this, I'm too weak, too cowardly, too young....

__

But you must, for Seto, a cold, pitiless part of my mind whispers. _Think of more than yourself. Be more than you think you are._

How would killing you really solve anything? True enough, my brother's tormentor would be gone, but...what would become of us?

__

Be more than you think you are!

I step outside myself and look down at the tableau with a vague bewilderment. How did it come to this?

Strange as it sounds, I don't hate you, Gozaburo, even now. I suppose it comes with being a child - your adopted son - but I don't really feel any one emotion towards you, not hate or fear or sadness or even love. This dark current in my soul is all and none of these, but mostly it is a kind of weariness, a resignation to the inevitable. It's you or us now. Kill or be killed. 

But I wonder...why do you hate us, Gozaburo? You must, you always act as though you do. Why do you hurt us and try to break us? What wrong did we ever commit? What makes you do what you do?

There is no point in thinking these questions. I'll never know the answers.

Y

et I wonder still, and they linger still in my mind. _How can I ever kill you? How did it come to this?_

Knife in my hand, I stood at the crossroads between life and death. And I knew that the choice I must make would affect me for the rest of the time I would live.

Then light seemed to bloom and spread through my soul, a mix of relief and calm acceptance.

I chose life; I let him live.

Sometimes the only way to fight back is to keep on living - though death may be preferable to that. It takes more courage, I think, to let you live than to kill you.

Perhaps this is also, to some extent, an act of mercy. For if children can feel hatred, then it is equally balanced with compassion and mercy.

But it is a matter of pride, also. Killing is an act of wanton violence, like your beatings and abuses. So how would it make me any better than you?

I turn and leave your room without a sound. Life will continue for us, too, same as it ever has.

We'll endure, me and Seto, because that is what we do. It is all that remains for us to do. Survive, stay alive, wait for the dawn to come. You can beat us, Gozaburo, starve us, do whatever you please to us, but we will win in the end. We'll live, because that is the only form of revenge we are capable of.

__

...Be more than you think you are...

I smile, a small expression of personal triumph and pride. _But I already am._

~*FINIS*~

________________________________________________________________________

Mokuba and Seto: REVIEW, PLEASE! Maybe she'll shut up if you do!

Not much chance of that :D


End file.
